atia felt crushed by Sarah's manner; but it was so uncomfortable to
start out in the morning in this way that she determined to try to
conciliate her. 'Don't be horrid and up in the clouds above us all;' and
she took Sarah's arm with a coaxing smile.

Sarah could not help smiling, for this was an old school accusation which
Horatia had made when Sarah once asked how she looked proud and haughty,
and the girls had all laughed at it. 'I don't feel there; I've told you
that before; but you can't or won't understand how I hate and despise it
all.'

'Well, never mind; let's go and see those Mickleroyds. You don't hate
and despise them,' said Horatia.

Half-an-hour later the party in the motor stopped at the point of the
main street from which a 'ginnel' or alley led to the Mickleroyds' house,
in one of the oldest parts of the town, and quite near the mills.

Luke Mickleroyd, as will be remembered, was the chief watchman of Clay's
Mills, and could have afforded a nice little house in the suburbs on the
tram-line, for he earned good wages; but he found it more convenient to
be close to the mills, so that he could rest between his rounds, and in
cold weather warm and refresh himself during the night.

'What a funny old place! I wonder they don't pull it down,' said Horatia,
as she picked her way over uneven and broken paving-stones to the house,
which had steps, with no balustrade, leading down to an open cellar-door
and up to another door.

'It belongs to my father,' said Sarah curtly.

Horatia said no more, and determined not to make any comments whatever
she saw, 'not even if the paper were hanging off the walls and the place
in ruins,' she said to herself.

But once they were inside the cottage the scene was changed. Everything
was spotlessly clean; the walls were prettily papered; the furniture was
handsome and old-fashioned; and Maria Mickleroyd came forward with a
pleasant smile on her tired, anxious face. 'Pleased to see you, Mrs Clay,
and Miss Sarah; and you've brought Omi,' pronounced 'Oh my,' to Horatia's
amusement. 'That's main kind of you. Little Ruthie's dropped off into a
lovely sleep for the minute; but, thank you, I shall be glad to have Omi
for the day, if Miss Sarah is sure she can spare her, for I shall be up
to-night again, and I might rest a bit by-and-by. Luke's resting now.'

'No, I'm not resting, missus,' said Luke Mickleroyd, coming down a narrow
staircase. 'I've had my sleep, and was coming t